


Atonement

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: Spare Parts, Episode Related: The Sentinel: by Blair Sandburg, First Times, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes mother really *does* know best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> Heartfelt thanks to Elizabeth Gerber for superb beta (and re-beta) and enthusiastic support. For Jen, with love, for dragging me--kicking and screaming--into this fandom.

## Atonement

by m butterfly

Author's webpage: <http://Skinner.Mulder.com/walfox>

Author's disclaimer: All characters belong to Pet Fly. I'm just taking them out for a test drive.

* * *

Atonement  
by m. butterfly 

I was a little nervous. 

Okay, okay. More like scared to death. 

Thank goodness I knew enough about breathing techniques to pass a polygraph. They didn't have a clue. Not even Jim, with all his special abilities. And he has them, all right. Because Blair'd said so. And my son is no fraud. He only denied the truth to protect Jim. 

Because he loves him. 

It was so obvious. I'd guessed long before I ever met Detective James Ellison. Blair's letters, e-mail messages, phone calls--it was always "Jim this" and "Jim that." In the beginning, I thought it was simply a case of hero worship. But I know my boy, and it soon became apparent that Jim meant a lot more to Blair than a roommate, big brother, or mere friend. 

The first time I ever saw them together, my suspicions were confirmed. I'd never seen Blair look at anybody the way he looked at Jim, and it nearly broke my heart. One man was as liberal as the other was conservative, and a case of unrequited love was something I wouldn't wish on anybody, let alone my only child. 

So it came as quite a shock when I realized that Jim was equally crazy about Blair. Sure, he initially made like he was interested in me, but he was just doing what he felt society expected of him. Maybe what he expected of himself. And flirting with me was a great way for him to sublimate. On a whim, I decided to show him Blair's baby pictures and, at one point, I caught the big tough cop brushing his thumb over a photo, as if he could actually feel those silky curls. 

Of course, when Blair came home and ran up to Jim's bedroom to see what we were doing up there--oh, no, _he_ wasn't jealous!--Jim put on the old macho bullshit act again, and started teasing my son about what a dorky looking kid he was. But I could see the truth in those incredible blue eyes. No amount of posturing could hide it. 

So, they were in love with each other, and I just assumed they were sleeping together. But a little snooping around the loft proved otherwise. It was clear that Jim had his space and Blair his. How sad, I thought. And how typically male. 

I'd seriously considered talking to Blair ("Baby, I know you love Jim, and Jim loves you, so why don't you do something about it?"), but I'd always prided myself for staying out of my son's love life. 

If only I'd shown better judgment--and self-control--when it came to his other affairs. 

Anyway, after that inaugural visit, I figured it was just a matter of time before they smartened up and got with the program. I spoke with Blair a few weeks later, but when I asked how he and Jim were doing, he just said they were "fine." 

The months stretched into years, and never once did Blair call or write to say that he and Jim were something other than friends. I'd even tried fishing a little ("So, sweetie, you seeing anybody? How about Jim? How are things between the two of you?") but didn't get so much as a nibble. 

When I showed up on their doorstep the last time, I felt all giddy inside because they were _really_ behaving like a couple. But, again, a quick house inspection told me they still hadn't connected. 

Then, before I had a chance to give the clueless detective and the oblivious police observer a lead in the only case of theirs that actually mattered, I stuck my big nose in where it didn't belong and nearly destroyed everything. Watching Jim grow cold and shut Blair out like that because of something I'd done--with only the best of intentions, of course--almost killed me. 

At the time, I had no idea how insecure Jim was when it came to relationships--romantic or otherwise. It was easier for him to believe Blair had betrayed him than to believe he was the centre of Blair's universe. 

So, to prove he wasn't like all the others who'd abandoned Jim or let him down, Blair resorted to drastic measures. 

Boy, did he ever. 

At least that heartbreaking news conference convinced Jim--finally--that Blair was on his side. 

So why couldn't he see how much my son loved him? 

And that's why I found myself in their home, on the day that Blair was offered a job with the Cascade Police Department, getting ready to do something I'd promised I'd never do again: meddle. 

We'd just come back from lunch and were comfortably settled in the living room, reading. I think we were all talked out, and each of us needed some time to reflect. Or, in my case, plot. 

Before long, Jim put his magazine down and started to get up. 

Blair was at his side in a heartbeat, gently pushing him back down. "Whoa there, man. Whatever it is you need--well, except to go to the john--" He grinned hugely. "--I'll get it for you." 

"For Christ's sake, Sandburg! I'm not a cripple, you know." 

I had to smile. He tried so hard to be convincing, acting like he hated being fussed over. The way he groused at and teased Blair reminded of the boys I went to school with. I'd seen him tug at Blair's ponytail dozens of times. 

"Yeah, Jim, I know. Merely a flesh wound. But since I'm up anyway..." 

He snorted. "I was just going to get my new book." 

"Where?" 

"Upstairs." 

"Gotcha." 

I watched Jim watch Blair fly up the stairs, and there was some definite appreciation there for that cute little tush. But there was so much more written on Jim's usually inscrutable face. Gratitude. Longing. Loneliness. Guilt. 

Blair was downstairs again so quickly that Jim barely had enough time to put his scowl back in place. "Thanks, Chief," he mumbled, grabbing the paperback. 

For the first time in days, Blair smiled. Positively beamed. "No problem, man. Anytime. Can I get you anything else while I'm up? Coffee? Water? Painkiller?" 

"Yeah. How 'bout some peace and quiet? Sit down, already. You're making me tired." 

"I'm fine too, sweetie," I said to my grinning son. 

"Jeez, Mom!" He'd remembered, at last, that I was in the room, and dragged his gaze away from Jim. "Sorry. I could make you some tea." 

"Maybe later," I told him. 

"You sure you're okay?" he asked Jim. 

"Sandburg--" 

Blair made one of his "I-hear-you-Jim" faces, stuck his tongue out, and flopped back down onto the couch. 

Jim glared. 

I swallowed. 

"Blair," I said casually as he picked up his book, "something just occurred to me. If you're going to be getting a full-time job, I guess it won't be long before you move out." 

"What?" The novel slipped from his hands, landing on the floor and immediately forgotten. "Move out? Of here?" 

I nodded, concentrating on breathing normally. 

"Why would you think that?" 

"Well," I continued doggedly, "you'll be making some decent money, for a change. I thought you'd want to get your own place. You're nearly 30, Blair." 

Jim gave up pretending to read and joined the conversation he'd obviously been following from the start. "This is Blair's home for as long as he wants it to be. He still has all those student loans to pay back, you know." 

Blair looked so relieved that I hated myself for what I had to say next. "Yes, Jim, I hear you. But surely he can still afford a little apartment." I faced my son. "Don't you think you've imposed on Jim long enough, sweetie? I'd have to say you're being a little selfish here." 

"Now, Naomi--" 

But Blair cut him off. "No, Jim. She's got a point. It was supposed to be a week. Two at the most. Remember? And you've been great--really patient and everything--but you've got to be sick and tired of sharing this place with someone like me." 

"Sandburg, I'm not--" 

"Exactly! Poor Jim," I sighed, raising my hand and waving it toward his bedroom. "It must be like living in a goldfish bowl." 

"No, it's--" 

"You've put up with me all this time, and I don't even pay rent, man," Blair continued, growing more miserable by the second. 

"Oh, for god's sake, Chief! I don't give a damn about the fucking rent." 

"You don't?" Blair was looking optimistic again. 

But I remedied that. "How can Jim ever hope to have any sort of normal love life with you living here? Have you ever stopped to think that he might want to remarry some day?" 

Jim was speaking to me, but his eyes were locked with Blair's. "I don't want another wife." 

"And what about you, Blair?" Oh, I was making myself sick. "One of these days, you're going to meet someone special. Someone you want to live with." 

"I have," he answered, unable to turn away from Jim. "I do." 

I held my breath as the two-- _idiots_ \--remained gazing at each other. I asked myself if I could leave now and trust them to finish what I'd started. I got my answer when Jim cleared his throat and reached for his book. 

It was time to play dirty. 

"Oh. Oh!" I said, my eyes wide and filled with sudden understanding. "Blair! Jim! I'm so happy for you! Why didn't you tell me?" 

"What are you talking about, Mom? Tell you what?" 

"That you're lovers!" My grin was the real thing, brought on by the startled looks they gave me. 

Blair jumped to his feet and held up his hands, palms out. "Whoa. Wait a minute. Jim's not--he doesn't--Jim and I aren't--" 

I smacked myself on the forehead. "I can't believe it took me this long to put two and two together," I groaned, hoping they would buy the act. 

"Mom." 

"I mean, the way you're always touching each other, looking at each other, taking about each other..." 

"Mom!" 

"And Blair!" I cried, clasping my bosom. "What you sacrificed for Jim! The money. Maybe a Noble Prize, even. Such an act of love! I've never--" 

"MOM!" 

"You don't have to shout, sweetie." My heart was pounding at that point, but if Jim had noticed, he wouldn't have thought twice about it. Like me, I'm sure he'd never seen Blair so angry: eyes flashing, nostril flaring, and an ugly snarl distorting those beautiful features. 

"Apparently I do," he said between clenched teeth. "Jim and I are not--I repeat-- _not_ lovers. Got it?" 

I tried to look both wounded and insulted. "Don't lie to me, Blair. I know you. I know when you're in love. I don't care that Jim's a man. Or even a cop. Give me a little more credit than that." 

His flailing hands landed in his hair. "Jesus Christ, Naomi!" I knew I was in trouble when he stopped calling me Mom. "What the fuck are you trying to do to me?" The ample use of four-letter words was another bad sign. "You've already fucked up my academic career, my dreams of teaching, getting tenure. Isn't that enough for you? Or do you want to ruin my personal life, too? What'll it take to make you happy? When I've lost the best friend I've ever had? When he kicks me out of the only real home I've ever known?" 

"He'd never do that." 

"Of course not, Chief." Until then, Jim had been just sitting there with his mouth hanging open, wearing the weirdest expression on that handsome face of his. 

But Blair plowed on as if he hadn't heard a word either one of us had said. "Is this your sick and twisted way of making sure I don't become a cop? A _pig_? By having my future partner reject me before I even enter the fucking academy?" 

I was shaking. I'd expected him to be upset, but he was livid. My boy had never talked to me like that. Never. Not when I refused to let him see Star Wars with his friends because I thought it was too violent a movie for an eight-year-old. Or ruined his first real date by showing up at the vegetarian restaurant where he'd taken his little girlfriend for dinner. Or even when I e-mailed Blair's dissertation to an editor without his permission. He'd always managed to keep his temper and still love me. 

Then I truly had an epiphany: he could live with being disappointed and humiliated and _fired_ , for god's sake, but he couldn't live without Jim. His "brass ring." 

Blair was more than just mad. He was terrified. 

"I have no problem with you becoming a detective, honey," I lied smoothly. "It's your life. Your decision. And Jim's not going to reject you. Are you, Jim?" 

"No." He'd taken his injured leg down from the coffee table and appeared to be getting ready to get between Blair and me, if necessary. 

I took a deep, cleansing breath. "And do you know why, Blair? Do you know why Jim won't turn you away?" 

"Don't say it," Blair warned, his fists beating steadily against his thighs. 

Of course, I said it anyway. I had to. "Because he loves you." 

God, I'd really pushed it. Blair was on the verge of tears and, possibly, matricide. He was just inches away from my face. "Shut up! Okay? Please just shut the fuck up!" 

"Chief!" Jim was looking queasy. This was a side of Blair he hadn't seen before. No one had. 

I turned to him, genuinely frightened, and as desperate as I'd ever been. "Jim. Jim! Please! Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you don't love my son? That you're not in love with him?" 

Outwardly calm, Jim reluctantly focused his attention on me. "No, Naomi. I can't." 

"See?" Blair yelled, nodding his head. "Satisfied? He said he--" He gasped as Jim's words penetrated that brilliantly thick skull of his. "Jim?" he whispered. 

Jim, now standing, leaning on his good leg, nodded slowly. "She's right, Blair. I do. I am." 

I expected Blair to run to his partner, forgetting all about me. But my boy was full of surprises that afternoon. "Mom? You--that--you knew--oh, my god! I'm so sorry!" 

Then he threw his arms around me, wedged his face in the space between my neck and shoulder, and started to sob. 

"Shush, sweetie. It's okay," I soothed, patting his back, stroking his hair. "I had it coming." 

"No, no, no," he wailed. "You're my m-mom, and I--I'm--Oh, shit! I'm a horrible person!" 

I grabbed his shoulders--my little boy's big, broad shoulders--and pushed him back a bit so I could wipe away his tears. "No, you're not. You're the most wonderful, tolerant human being I've ever known." I kissed the tip of his nose. "Now, as much as I love all this attention, I think you're giving it to the wrong person." 

He blushed, and I spun him around and pushed toward Jim. Sniffling, Blair shuffled forward with his head down, but as soon as he got within touching distance, Jim reached out and lifted that strong, square chin. 

"Really?" Blair asked him. 

"Yeah. Really." He held Blair's upturned face between his hands, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns across damp skin. "You?" 

The worry lines disappeared instantly. "Oh, like, absolutely." 

And then they were in each other's arms, Blair on tiptoe so he could rest his cheek against Jim's shoulder. Moments later, Jim bent down a little, making the hug more comfortable for Blair, burying his face in those beautiful curls. It was how I'd always pictured them. 

When Jim began rubbing Blair's back, I knew it was time for me to leave. Dabbing my eyes, I went into the little room under the stairs and got my coat and bags. 

But I couldn't resist sneaking a peek at the boys as I headed for the front door. Jim had lifted Blair right off the floor, and they were kissing so sweetly that I sighed. Jim must have heard me, because he set Blair down with the utmost care and held him to his chest, then looked at me over the top of Blair's head. 

"Thank you," he mouthed. 

"You're welcome," I said, quietly enough so only Jim could hear. "Be good to my angel." 

He nodded, then pressed his lips to Blair's forehead. 

I left. 

And now I'm heading back to Cascade. For Blair's graduation from the Academy. I'm not really happy about it--he probably knows, too--but I'm not going to be anything but supportive. After all, if it hadn't been for me, he'd still be teaching at Rainier, wielding a piece of chalk instead of a gun. 

No, my days of interfering in my son's life are over. The last time, everything worked out just fine. It must've made up for messing around with Blair's dissertation, because he's forgiven me. Not everybody gets the chance to atone for their mistakes. I consider myself very lucky. 

So I'm going to smile and cheer and try to be the kind of mother Blair deserves. He's not only a grown man, but also a cop. He can take care of himself. But, for those times when he might need a little help--a little nurturing--he's got Jim. 

Letting go hurts, but at least I haven't lost my son entirely. And now I have another young man to love. To worry about. To leave to his own devices. 

God help me. 

* * *

Fini  
August 27, 2000 


End file.
